


Screw Seeing the Future, How About Owning It?

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Oracle Jason Verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU! What if Jason Todd wasn’t killed in “A Death in the Family” and instead became paralyzed from the waist down? (In this verse Babs is shot but she makes it out with just scarring). What if Jason became Oracle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screw Seeing the Future, How About Owning It?

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings; permanent character injury, illness, nightmares, ptsd.
> 
> Also, I have too many series.

The kid was getting good.

Jason had to sit back and admire his handiwork.  It had taken a bit of begging to the boss man, a bit of elbow grease on Dick’s part, and a whole lot of patience on his, but Tim had grown into a remarkable Robin. A really fucking good one to be precise.

                He reached over for his soda, caffeine loaded, sugar free, and Alfred Delivered, and took a long sip. He had developed an addiction to the stuff after his job became scanning the web rather than the streets. If he was honest, which he rarely was, he was better at this one, but either way the Wayne residence would not be running out of Coke-A-Cola anytime soon on his watch.

                He glanced up at the computer screen in the right corner, adjusting his headset so the microphone was by his ear.

                “Hey Replacement, couple of goons coming your way off 5th street.” He leaned forward, pressing a few buttons, and a few profiles came up. “All minor crooks, but they’re likely to be armed, so don’t get any stupid ideas.”

                “Got it,” Tim replied over the com. Jason looked up at the left-hand screen where a small red dot started to move across the streets of Gotham. Tracers had been one of his better ideas, he had to admit; easier and faster to find the wounded. He was working on a suit that could trace body functions in his spare time, but until he mastered that monster, the tracers would have to do.

                “Would you like some fresh cookies, Master Jason, or shall I spike them with caffeine first?” Jason rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder at the butler. He seized a couple of the treats and smirked at Alfred.

                “The sugar will be enough, Alfie.” The butler’s smile was hard to catch, he was so good at hiding it, but Jason saw it anyway. “Before you ask, Tim and Bruce should be home within the hour, so yes, I will actually be getting some sleep before tomorrow.” He shivered, rubbing his arms. “Godamn, it’s freezing in here.”

                “One for the swear jar, Master Jason,” Alfred said. He stepped back a little. “Would you like-“

                Jason waved him off. “Nah, I’ll get it myself. “ He took off his headset and rested it on the desk, before reaching for the wheels on his wheelchair and rolling himself back.

                He had to admit it was easier now, the whole pushing himself places. When he had first started, after the Joker, after the explosion, he thought his arms were going to fall off.  It took little difficultly now, except when ramps were involved, and he pushed himself across the small section of the Batcave that he had dubbed his “lair” and grabbed himself a blanket. He was back at the computer in a less than a minute, the blanket over his legs, his headset back on.

                He heard a grunt as soon as he got back on the com and smiled.

                “Five for five goons, Replacement? I think that’s a new world record. Though I could do better.”

                “Don’t rub it in,” Tim muttered over the com line and Jason laughed switching to another line. “Hey there, Batgirl. What do I own the pleasure?”

                “Black Bat and I hit a snag when it came to the hacking the Luthor Corp network, and  I don’t have a computer. Mind-“

                “Gosh, making me do all the hard work. Don’t worry, I can get this done in less than a couple minutes.” He pulled up the keyboard, already starting to type.

                “Thanks Oracle,” Barbara said over the com. Jason just grinned.

                “What can I say; I’m a people pleaser.”

***

                Jason didn’t remember a lot about the explosion.

                He remembered the crowbar, the sinister laughter, the smell of gasoline. He remembered his mother’s screams, the feeling of being tossed into air.  He remembered Batman telling him to hang on.

                He didn’t remember the bit of shrapnel entering his back and screwing over his spinal cord. Which frankly, he felt was fucking unfair because if something was going to change your life forever, you might as well remember it.

                He had been transferred to the nearest hospital and then transferred to a better one.  He had a concussion, broken bones, bruises and severe internal bleeding. Those went away.

                The damage to his lower spinal cord didn’t.

                Bruce had been the one who told him. He had looked like a mess while doing it, his eyes red, his clothes stained, but he manned up and did it himself.

                Jason didn’t cry. He’d have time to do that later.

***

                Jason loved the Birds of Prey, he really did.

                Barbara was practically his older sister, the girl who taught him how to crack any computer code, to override any system.  She knew what it was like to be him, when the Joker shot her, they thought she be able to walk at first, and so she gave him everything she had. He had spent nights awake listening to her lessons, looking down at a laptop in his hands, typing furiously in his hospital bed. She helped him with his name, with his tech, with his life in general and he loved her for it.

                As a result he always took her side when it came down to a fight between her and Dick.  But that was another story.

                So when Barbara came to him with her team, he had offered to help them. To be a watcher in the sky, or at least in every usable security camera. As a result, the team had grown fond of him, taking him out on the town against his will as their sign of affection. And while Jason loved to have some extra time to glance at the wonder that was the Black Canary, he wasn’t going to resort to going to the spa with them for bonding time.

                So he did what he usually did. He crashed his brother’s bonding sessions.

                “So has Robin fallen off the train yet?”  He asked Dick, hacking his way into some security cameras the city over. He heard Robin curse, a rare sound, and Dick chuckled.

                “He’s holding his own and pestering me about my love life, the usual? What’s up at home base?”

                “The boss man is brooding as usual. I think he may have frozen in his crouch.” He rolled back, getting a look at Bruce who was huddled over his computer like it was sustaining him with life. “Okay, he’s not responding to by insults, so I’m putting it at a level seven brood.”

                “May god have mercy on us all.”

***

                Oracle was Barbara’s idea.

                Keeping it was Jason’s.

***

                “Wake up Jaybird, it’s time for physical therapy!” Dick slammed open the door to his room, turning all the lights at once and opening the curtains. He smiled at him, all pep.

It was unnatural in so many ways. Jason moaned into his pillow.

                “Fuck you.”

“Language Master Jason,” Alfred called from the hallway. Jason decided the phrase “fuck me” may have been more appropriate.

                “Come on Jason, it’s just an hour or two.” Jason opened his eyes, peering at Tim who was in front of his bed, a pleading expression on his face.

                “Will you help me hack Call of Duty later?” Tim grinned.

                “Only if you don’t let me win.” Jason pushed himself up, pointing towards the door.

                “Fine, I’m up you cheats. Go do something productive and I’ll be out in a moment.” Tim and Dick left, shutting the door behind him.

                Despite being the new kid, Tim knew how to pull his strings.

***

                He had nightmares every day for a while after.

                Someone always came to check on him and he hated it because god he didn’t need to be coddled, didn’t need to be protected like some little bird that had gotten his wings snapped.  He was used to life going to hell on him; he had gotten back up before and he would do it again.

                Except there was something about the Joker’s smile that seemed to haunt his dreams, the crazy grin showing up in his worst nightmares. How his family, his friends and sometimes even himself would suddenly transform into the man and bleed him dry.

                He still had nightmares. He just got better at hiding them

***

                More of his nightmares are the living one these days.

                “Hey Timbo, look at me, okay?”

                The Robin turned towards him, blood dripping from his face, his complexion as pale as death. He coughed and it splattered on the pillow, a red stain bleeding into the white.

                “Timbo? Really?”

                Jason swatted at his hair but it was more of a pat than anything. “It’s your name right? Unless you don’t like being called Timbo in which case I’ll be sure to use it for the rest of your life which will be till you are a hundred and senile.”

                Tim blinked a few times, and Jason hoped Alfred would be back with those bandages soon. “Alfred…” He coughed. “Told me…wouldn’t die a kid in tights.”

                Jason reached for the ice packs, adding a new one to Tim’s head. His little brother’s head. When had that happened?

                “Well Alfred’s the smartest of us all, so shut the death talk and maybe I’ll keep Replacement as your nickname. Out of kindness.”

                “Saint,” Tim mumbled, drifting off again. Jason kept the ice pack steady, his other hand at Tim’s wrist, monitoring his pulse.

                Nightmares were no stranger to him.

 

 


End file.
